


Assistance

by INMH



Series: Merry Month of Masturbation Fills (2017) [10]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: I mean KIND OF?, It's complicated just read the story, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge 2017, Pseudo-Masturbation, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-28 07:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10826814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: There may have been some alcohol involved in this.





	Assistance

“Like this?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
There may have been some alcohol involved in this.  
  
Malik is sitting between his legs, his (bare) back to Altaïr’s (bare) chest, his (only) arm wrapped backwards around Altaïr’s shoulders. Altaïr’s arms are bracketing the other man’s torso; his hands are on Malik’s cock.  
  
There may have been a _lot_ of alcohol involved in this.  
  
Altaïr presses a sloppy (for him) kiss on Malik’s cheek, lips dragging clumsily against the skin and stubble. Malik leans against him heavily. “You want me to start?”  
  
Malik grunts, thrusts up into the circle of Altaïr’s hands. That’s a ‘yes’ if Altaïr’s ever heard one. So he slowly slides his hands down, dragging the foreskin away from the head of Malik’s cock, and feels a low rumble of a sound from the other man. Altaïr feels nails scratching into his back.  
  
This is the second time they’ve done something as intimate as this together. Malik is tense to be engaged in such an act with Altaïr, and embarrassed to be asking something like this of him.  
  
_It would be nice to feel two hands again_ , is all he said, and it was all Altaïr needed to hear.  
  
Altaïr still has his trousers on, can feel his own cock pressing against the fabric, insisting on making its satisfaction with this situation known. Altaïr will decide what to do about it when Malik has had his release. Which, judging from the feel of the man’s cock in his hands, isn’t going to be very long at all; it’s hot and pulsing with blood and unbridled enthusiasm.  
  
Malik jerks back and forth, back into Altaïr’s chest and forward into his hands, and Altaïr mashes his lips against the skin near Malik’s eye. “Come on,” He mumbles, squeezing and almost laughing when Malik gasps and presses back _hard_ against his chest. He’s rubbing against Altaïr’s cock unintentionally and that feels so unbelievably good, it makes him want to bring Malik off immediately. “Come on,” He insists.  
  
“ _Mmm_ ,” Malik’s body stretches out in a long, beautiful line, hips jutting out, and he comes onto Altaïr’s hands with a low, deep noise. When the orgasm dissipates, he goes amazingly limp, more relaxed than Altaïr has ever seen him, and settles back onto Altaïr’s lap. Altaïr is still erect, and it’s uncomfortable, but he’s felt worse; he’ll gladly tolerate a great deal of discomfort if it means he can see Malik boneless with relaxation like this again.  
  
Malik uses the arm that’s still twisted around Altaïr as leverage, rotates so that they’re face-to-face and kisses Altaïr deeply, sweetly. This is the sort of kissing that they both enjoy in the moment, but find uncomfortable later on when they reflect on the emotion behind it.  
  
And then, as though anticipating that moment, Malik _grinds_ down onto Altaïr, who hisses but then rocks up to reciprocate.  
  
They move like that for a few minutes until Malik’s lips brush his ear: “You should take your pants off.” That’s all the warning Altaïr gets before he’s shoved back onto the cushions behind him, and Malik is impatiently yanking his pants down and pulling his cock free. He leans down and- fast as fucking _lightning_ \- swallows Altaïr’s cock for a moment, enough to wet it, and then pulls off and starts stroking him.  
  
Had Altaïr any of his old pride, the stuff that had led Malik to only having one arm, he might have restrained his noises. Now he makes small, whining noises that encourage Malik to stroke him faster. The other man looks at him with a lazy, hooded gaze that has a touch of satisfaction in it.  
  
Right before he comes, Altaïr lurches back up and clutches Malik’s shoulders, lunges forward to kiss his cheek before he flops back down onto the cushions and comes all over Malik’s hand. And leg. And hip.  
  
As he’s riding out the last of the orgasm, Altaïr is vaguely aware of Malik stretching out beside him, calm and cool as though he hadn’t just gotten Altaïr off.  
  
Even when Altaïr comes down completely, they don’t speak for a long time. It’s much easier for them to speak now, to communicate with one another without attempting to murder one another, but they find that silence works quite well between them.  
  
Malik’s fingers are still on Altaïr’s bicep, his hair tickles his shoulder as Altaïr hears him whisper, “Thank you.”  
  
“I am quite happy to do it again,” Altaïr says with just enough suggestiveness, enough lightness to his voice that things don’t become too serious between them. That happened often enough outside of the bedroom.  
  
Malik snorts, but settles in a little more closely against Altaïr. “I know.”  
  
-End


End file.
